


The Archangel Fucking Gabriel Fucks Everything Up

by friendsofthemusain24601



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gabriel is a dick, M/M, Other, reassurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 17:33:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20643008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendsofthemusain24601/pseuds/friendsofthemusain24601
Summary: The title says it all. Gabriel is a dick and Aziraphale panics, thankfully his demonic lover will fix it.





	The Archangel Fucking Gabriel Fucks Everything Up

Heaven was on a time crunch these days, frantically trying to overturn the work of the once Anti-Christ boy Adam. The entire point of his existence had been to bring about the end of times and somehow the little brat defied his destiny. Gabriel sighed deeply, rustling some papers with restless energy as the morning crept onward. 

“Gabriel,” the archangel Michael appeared before the desk, tilting his head in a nod of greeting. “I have a task for you.” 

Gabriel tried to conceal his relief at being freed from seemingly eternal boredom. “A task?” 

“Go to the foolish principality Aziraphale. In the war to come we need all the soldiers we can get, you must return to Earth and see if he begs forgiveness.” 

“And if he doesn’t?” 

Michael was nonplussed, “Try Gabriel.” The archangel nodded and swiftly departed for earth.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marital bliss suited the pair, only a year after Armagge-didn’t-happen Aziraphale and Crowley decided 6000 years was more than enough time to get together. Not only did they depend on each other in incomprehensible ways, but they were fed up with letting their respective head offices determine how they lived their lives. PREVIOUS head office, he corrected in his mind, Aziraphale still wasn’t quite used to the idea of them being on their own side. Puttering around the kitchen he poured some water in the kettle, turning it on and waiting for his tea to brew when suddenly there was a knock at the door. 

Confusion furrowed across his brow, they didn’t get visitors often, typically Anathema and Newt invited them over to their own cottage, and the Them would still be in school at this hour, Warlock included. That didn’t leave many options, and Aziraphale reluctantly padded down the hallway to investigate the matter. Within seconds he wished he had not done so, regretting the decision as the door swung open.

“G-Gabriel.” he gulped in attempt to remain collected. “What a surprise.” 

“Are you going to invite me in, or are we ignoring the pretense of niceties?” Gabriel sharply inquired, raising an eyebrow in disgust. 

Immediately Aziraphale stepped closer to the door, closing it slightly and blocking the path to the house. The last thing he needed was to feel severely threatened in his own home. 

“W-why don’t we speak here?” his voice was timid and wrong. 

Gabriel shrugged, “Very well. I trust you know why I’m here.” Aziraphale gave no sign of agreement and thus the archangel continued. “There’s going to be another war, you cannot avoid it forever in your cowardice. It will come, we hope you choose rightly when it does.” 

The word coward rang inside his ears, coating his throat with panic as air ceased to fill his lungs. He stood silently as Gabriel resumed berating him. “Well? Whose side are you on? You were a coward and a fool once before, it amazes me that God didn’t cast you out with the rest of the traitors.” 

Not that he needed to, but Aziraphale couldn’t breathe if he wanted to. The harsh words crept inside, wrapping their way around his neck and squeezing tightly; he resisted the urge to gasp. 

“Get away from him! Don’t you ever go near him!” Thank god, or thank SOMETHING that Crowley arrived home at that precise moment, shouting in dismay. He brushed past Gabriel, shoving him roughly and stood in between them protectively, one hand reaching behind to wrap around Aziraphale’s wrist. “Did he hurt you?” he asked in a low voice, the angel shaking his head ever so slightly. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes, “HE can hear you. And why would I waste my time doing so? I have better things to do then waste my time on this filth.” Crowley’s nostrils flared furiously and he barely resisted the urge to kill Gabriel on the spot. 

“Get. Out.” he growled through gritted teeth, “You have no place in our home.” 

The archangel merely smirked, dumbfounded yet amused by their antics. “You let him speak for you Aziraphale? Too much of a coward to even stand up for yourself? You’re weak, perhaps heaven will finally take heed of this and refrain from sending me pointlessly down again.” 

“You have five seconds to leave or I swear to Satan you will regret the day you were created.” Crowley hissed. 

“Remember Aziraphale, you cannot escape heaven’s notice. Either you will be one of us, or you will fall.” with that he vanished, leaving behind a seething demon and devastated angel. 

Brokenly exhaling Aziraphale tried to calm his breathing, to no avail. It felt like his insides were ice and the organs shattered within his chest. Every time he exhaled he expected shards of frozen lung to spew out. Gabriel was right, he was a pathetic excuse for an angel, a fact he had been made aware of from the very beginning, but it certainly did not help that it was brought up once more, especially when he and Crowley had been doing so well and-

“Hey, hey, angel it’s alright.” Suddenly warm hands were on his shoulders, a grounding presence. “Everything is okay now, he’s gone, it’s just us.” Aziraphale nodded mutely and Crowley sighed, grabbing the angel by the hand and carefully pulling him over to the couch. “Sit.” When Aziraphale made no motion of acquiescence Crowley pressed lightly down on his shoulders, pushing him into a seated position. “I will be right back.” 

Before Aziraphale could protest the demon had returned, a steaming mug of Earl Grey in his hands. Crowley plopped down next to Aziraphale and extended the mug like a peace offering. “Here, it’ll help.” Wordlessly he accepted the tea, letting the hot ceramic warm his palms and he tipped his head to rest against Crowley’s shoulder. “That fucker is wrong.” Crowley softly murmured, rubbing circles at the base of Aziraphale’s spine. 

Finally he broke the silence, shaking his head. “He’s not.”

“He IS. That bastard only knows cruelty, he doesn’t understand what it is to be intensely kind. He is and always has been unworthy of you- the same goes for the rest of that lot.” Aziraphale shook his head again, setting the mug down and pressing his face into the crook of Crowley’s neck where he could hide for an eternity if he wished. Tonight, he wished. On most occasions Crowley needed reassurance, needed the grounding connection and to feel Aziraphale as a soft pillow below him. Tonight the opposite would be necessary. Tonight, the angel desperately needed to lay on top, safe in the arms of his love, and that’s exactly what happened. Head pillowed on Crowley’s chest Aziraphale breathed in sync with the demon, lungs melting further with each breath. Tea long forgotten on the counter they rested until the world was surmountable once more, as long as they remained together..


End file.
